_He complains that he has rendered his mistress so celebrated by his
verses, as to have thereby raised for himself many rivals._
|What day was that, on which, ye birds of no white hue, you sent forth
your ominous notes, ever sad to me in my loves? Or what star must I
consider to be the enemy of my destiny? Or what Deities am I to complain
of, as waging war against me? She, who but lately [647] was called my
own, whom I commenced alone to love, I fear that with many she must be
shared by me.
Am I mistaken? Or has she gained fame by my poems? 'Tis so; by my genius
has she been made public. And justly; for why have I made proclamation
[648] of her charms? Through my fault has the fair been put up for sale.
She pleases, and I the procurer; by my guidance is the lover introduced;
by my hands has her door been opened. Whether verses are of any use,
is matter of doubt; at all events, they have injured me; they have
been envious of my happiness. While Thebes, [649] while Troy, while the
exploits of Caesar existed; Corinna alone warmed my genius. Would that I
had meddled with verses against the will of the Muses; and that Phoebus
had deserted the work commenced! And yet, it is not the custom to listen
to Poets as witnesses; [650] I would have preferred all weight to be
wanting to my words.
Through us, Scylla, who robbed her father of his white hair, bears the
raging dogs [651] beneath her thigh and loins. We have given wings to
the feet, serpents to the hair; the victorious descendant of Abas [652]
is borne upon the winged steed. We, too, have extended Tityus [653] over
the vast space, and have formed the three mouths for the dog bristling
-with snakes. We have described Enceladus, [654] hurling with his
thousand arms; and the heroes captivated by the voice of the two-shaped
damsels. [655] In the Ithacan bags [656] have we enclosed the winds of
Æolus; the treacherous Tantalus thirsts in the middle of the stream. Of
Niobe we have made the rock, of the damsel, the she-bear; the Cecropian
[657] bird sings of Odrysian Itys. Jupiter transforms himself, either
into a bird, or into gold [658] or, as a bull, with the virgin placed upon
him, he cleaves the waves. Why mention Proteus, and the Theban seed,
[659] the teeth? Why that there were bulls, which vomited flames from
their mouths? Why, charioteer, that thy sisters distil amber tears?
[660] Why that they are now Goddesses of the sea, who once were ships?
[661] Why that the light of day fled from the hellish banquet [662] of
Atreus? And why that the hard stones followed the lyre [663] as it was
struck?
The fertile license of the Poets ranges over an immense space; and
it ties not its words to the accuracy of history. So, too, ought
my mistress to have been deemed to be falsely praised; now is your
credulity a mischief to me.